E COURTSHIP 

U15E AYRES GARNETT 





filass n S ZZ U ^ 



THE COURTSHIP 

A Dramatization of Longfellow's Poem 
"The Courtship of Miles Standish" 

Written by Louise Ayres Garnett at the request of the Drama 
League of America. Awarded prize by the Drama Club of 
Evanston — the cradle of the Drama League — and produced by 
the Club in November, 1920. 




© Matzent 



Oliver Hinsdell as John Alden 

Mrs. Arthur Whitely as Priscilla Mullens 

William Owen as Miles Standish 



THE COURTSHIP 

A DRAMATIZATION OF LONGFELLOW'S POEM 
^'THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH" 



By 

LOUISE AYRES GARNETT 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 



* 0^ 



Copyright, iq30, by 
Rand McNally & Company 




DEC-1 1920 



S)C!,A604412 









(tfi.i 



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To 

Wrs. Jb. Starr l^mi 

Friend^ coimsellor and incentive 



Again the Mayflower is opening her petals and even now 

blossoming in the wind 

Quicken our hearts with strength to build for the morrow and 

with courage to remember today. 

— Act II, Scene i 



CHARACTERS 

Captain Miles Standi sh 

John Alden 

Priscilla Mullens 

Mary Chilton 

Bartle Allerton 

William Brewster, the Elder of Plymouth 

Mistress Brewster, wife of the Elder 

Wattawamat 



of the Narragansetts 
Pecksuot 

Squanto, Indian friend of the settlers at Plymouth 

HoBOMOK, friend and interpreter of the settlers 

The Master of the Mayflower 

Sarah 

Martha 

Danny 

Man 

Woman 

Young Girl 

Child 

Councillors, Soldiers, Indians, Settlers, and the Crew 



Scene: Plymouth Plantation, in the year 1621 

Act I: The houses of Captain Standish and Elder Brewster 

and the green clearing between. Springtime 
Act II: Scene i — The harbor at Plymouth in the early dawn of 
the next morning 
Scene 2 — The same at night 
Act III: Scene i — The same as Act I, in the early autumn 
Scene 2 — The same, later in the autumn 



Dr. Charles A. Eastman, the eminent American Indian scholar, 
has furnished a Sioux translation of the speeches in Act II, Scene 2. 
Sioux was not the language of the New England Indians, but as the 
tongue of the latter, that of the Eliot Bible, is not now available, 
this Sioux translation will have to suirice. The vowels should all 
be given the French or continental sound. Instead of the spoken 
word, it may be found effective to have the Indians employ the 
sign or gesture language, which can be acquired from Ernest 
Thompson Seton's book on the subject. 



THE COURTSHIP 

ACT I 

Scene i: It is May time in Plymouth Plantation. At left can 
he seen the front and side of the rude plank house of Captain 
Miles Standish facing across stage. At right are the front 
and side of a similar house belonging to Elder Brewster, /acwg 
the Standish house, with a window on the side. The roofs are 
thatched with straw and grass, the chimneys are low and broad, 
and the windows have oiled paper panes. The space between the 
houses is a green clearing with bushes at the rear and near the 
houses. By the Brewster home are a rude chair and bench; near 
the Standish home are a bench and table and a stump whose top 
has been smoothed. On the fable are several volumes, one, the 
"Commentaries of Caesar,^' another, the Bible. Seated on the 
bench at the table is John Alden dividing his time between gaz- 
ing into space and writing, his rapidly moving quill denoting a 
subject of fluent warmth. 

Enter Bartle Allerton, from right rear, in holiday humor. He 
holds a sheet of paper which he waves aloft as he sees John. 

Bartle: Oho, John! 

' [John continues unheeding.] 

Bartle: Come, man! Be at home to your friends. 

[John's quill moves inspiredly. Bartle regards him in quizzical 

astonishment.] 

Bartle : May I be hung by my bootstraps if he has 
not left Plymouth Plantation and rid off on a pink cloud. 
Come back, man, before the devil snatch you! [Raising 
his voice.] I say the devil will snatch you if you come not 
down from your pink cloud. 

John {looking up in bewilderment) : Pink cloud ? 
Devil? 



10 THE COURTSHIP 

Bartle: Exactly. None but the devil rides on rosy 
clouds. A Nonconformist, or even the friend of Non- 
conformists, should turn his back and remember how 
naughty a thing a devil is. 

John: Between your chatter of pinky clouds and 
de'ils, I know not one from the other. 

Bartle : You have hit upon the truth, John : I doubt 
not the best of us has yearnings for rosy flights and that 
the devil sometimes longs for a turn at psalm singing. 
But look you! See what I chanced upon in the woods. 
Though but a clumsy bit of verse, 'tis- as amorous as the 
woodsy wooing of the girl in doublet and hosen whom 
Master Shakespeare set to writing on trees. 

John {uneasily, as he puts out a hand for the paper) : 
What have you there? 

Bartle: Nay, not so fast. You shall taste a lover's 
baking, hot from the oven of his own heart. Even you, 
on your pink cloud, could set no swifter pace than does 
this mooning fellow. Hark you! 
Pure as snow — 

John: Put it away, Bartle. 

Bartle : Pure as snow in pathless ways; 
Ready-witted — 
By my troth, John, 'tis an acrostic! P-R-I — 

John {making a futile reach for the paper) : I do not 
care to hear this matter. 

Bartle: But hear it you shalL Follow it closely. 
You may wish to model your style upon it. Note the 
first letters of the lines and you'll uncover the name of 
a right lovely maid: 

Pure as snow in pathless ways; 
Ready-witted all thy words; 



THE COURTSHIP ~ n 

Innocent as April days; 
Songful as a nest of birds; 
Cradle-like thy gentle arms; 
Idleness an unknown sin; 
Labor offers no alarms; 
Laughter pokes thy dimples in: 
Angel though thou surely art. 
Marry me or break my heart I 

Mark that, John: 

Angel though thou surely art, 
Marry me or break my heart! 

[Bartle gives a great laugh and slaps his thigh.] Not 
bad business, hey, John? 

John (coldly) : I see naught to roar over so that the 
very woods buzz with ^^our noisiness. To laugh is no 
accompHshment. [With heat.] A jackass is a rare one 
for laughing, yet I doubt he is overmuch praised for the 
doing. 

Bartle (with another laugh): What's got into you, 
man? But did you get the name? Did you mind how 
the letters read? P, R, I, S, C, I, L, L, A, M: Priscilla 
Mullens. 

John (leaping to his feet): Do not speak her name. 

Bartle (with a whistle): Oho! 

John: So much as whisper that name in mirth and 
I '11 not answer for my actions. 

Bartle: So that's it! That's the comer where the 
wind sits on its little haunches ! 

John: Cease youi mocking. 

Bartle (whose light manner calms suddenly to one of 
understanding): Forgive me, John. I didn't realize 



12 THE COURTSHIP 

what I was trampling with my heavy feet. By the head 
of James, I deserve the pillory. 

John (mollified): Nay, not so, friend — 

Bartle: Not the pillory, but the stocks from sunup 
to sundown, thrice running. 

John: Nay, friend — 

Bartle : With thumbscrews to boot ! 

John (laughing): Cease your tortures. You will be 
quartered next. 

Bartle: There's naught too bad for a clumsy lout 
like myself. 

John: I will make confession: I am right glad you 
blundered on my secret. 'Tis an easement to the heart 
to have a leak through which the feelings may trickle in 
some show of words. No one knows this save our two 
selves. 

Bartle : Priscilla ? 

John: Not unless she has divined it. 

Bartle: I warrant your heart has no more held its 
secret than can the cat keep its eyeballs from burning holes 
in the dark. You fetch a sigh — like this — and a glance 
— like that — and presto! the maid knows all. 

John: Not all. Not in a hundred years could she 
know the length and breadth and height of my heart's 
dimensions. 

Bartle: Ay, John. 

John: And not in a hundred hundred years could I 
know all the beauty of her spirit. 

Bartle: Ay, John, making ample allowance for a 
lover's frenzy, I grant you the truth of what you're 
saying. 

John: She is indeed rightly called the Majrflower of 



THE COURTSHIP 13 

Plymouth. Mayflowers blooming at the touch of Spring 
are no more lovely than she. 

Bartle: And staunch, too — staunch as the trees at 
whose feet the mayflowers blossom. All winter, during 
our scourge of death, she lost no chance for service, even 
with the grief of her own parents' and brother's passing 
fresh in her heart. 

John : And yet she is so savored with the spice of her 
Huguenot blood, the appetite is never satisfied. [He gives 
a sigh.] 

Bartle (with a laugh) : Why, John, no need for you 
to sigh! Surely you are her match in ready phrases. 
With sentence-turning your business, why should you hesi- 
tate to tell her your feelings? Too long waiting is a poor 
handmaid to success. 

John: You speak with some sense, Bartle. I had 
made up my mind to empty my heart to her this very day. 

Bartle (nodding toward the house of Elder Brewster) : 
With her home but a stone's throw away, how can you 
settle to anything else? 

[Loud sounds of singing, with brave slides up to the notes, 
come from the Brewster house.] 

Bartle: Is that your goddess singing? 
John: God forbid. 'Tis Mistress Brewster, whose 
spirit is sweeter than her voice. 
Bartle : But not stronger, John, not stronger. 

[Mistress Brewster comes out and shakes a dust cloth vigorously, 
after which she gives the threshold a brisk sweeping. She sees 
John and Bartle.] 

Mistress Brewster: Good day to you, John Alden. 
Good day, Bartle Allerton. 



14 THE COURTSHIP 

John: Good day, Mistress Brewster. 

Bartle: One can see that the world uses you well, 
Mistress. How fares Priscilla Mullens? 

Mistress B. {with a twinkle): 'Twould be more to 
the purpose to inquire how the Elder is feeling. Pris- 
cilla' s but a chit of a young thing, and good health is apt 
to companion her. It 's older folk, like the Elder, who are 
not so sure of its company. 

Bartle: Perhaps you'll tell us how they both fare. 

Mistress B.: I doubt not the Elder is this moment 
offering up prayers for the young and giddy. As for 
Priscilla, she is busy, a complaint I hope is catching. 

[With a final flourish of her twig broom, Mistress Brewster goes 
into the house. John and Bartle exchange smiles.] 

Bartle : I must be off. It is time I caught the com- 
plaint of the lovely Priscilla. 

John: And I will do the writing I promised the Cap- 
tain against his return. He should be here soon. 

Bartle : What does he think of — [H.e nods toward 
the Brewster house.] 

[John shakes his head.] 

Bartle: Have you not told even Captain Standish? 

John : Not a whisper has passed my lips, though they 
have often trembled for the telling. 

Bartle: Unless you told him in downright speech, 
I doubt our busy Captain would discover it of himself. 
What a whirlwind he is! And what a contradiction! 
Brave in the face of danger — yet so shy in the presence 
of a woman he seems not to be himself, but some strange 
other. I have seen him stand speechless before a pretty 
maiden, for all the world like a naughty lad caught in an 



THE COURTSHIP 15 

act of folly. How he ever found words with which to 
woo his wife is past understanding! 

John: His poor Rose! Well, his silence or his speech 
can make no difference to her now. Bartle, I do love that 
man. Think what it means to live under his roof — to be 
the possessor of his friendship! 

Bartle: Let me go, John. Any more dwelling on 
your heart's saints would burst that very heart from rap- 
ture. Here's the Captain now. 

[Enter Miles Standish, bringing an atmosphere of action 
and fellowship.] 

Standish: Good day, Allerton. 

Bartle: Good day, sir. I was on my way to the 
council house. Any fresh devilment from the Red Skins? 

Standish : They are quiet now, the kind of still, oily- 
still surface that denotes a near boiling of the waters. I 
distrust the situation. We must be prepared. 

Bartle: That we'll always be, Captain, with you at 
our head. 

Standish: God grant it, Allerton. 

[Exit Bartle.] 

Standish: To be prepared, John, cocked for action! 
'Tis the only way to get a footing in this land of rock and 
savagery. 

[He enters the house and comes out with an armful of weapons and 
armor, his sword, breastplate, and fowling piece among them. 
He lays them on the ground and seating himself on the stump 
begins to polish them. John writes on. Standish speaks almost 
as in soliloquy.] 

Standish : Ay, one must be prepared. Look at these 
arms, bright and clean as if for inspection. Neither 



l6 THE COURTSHIP 

moth nor rust shall corrupt them if Miles Standish has 
his way. 

John {smiling but not looking up) : I 'd not worry about 
the moths. 'Twould take a right persistent moth to 
bite through steel. 

Standish: Judging by some of the good wives' tales, 
a moth has a tooth more deadly than a wolf. Well, 
there's little here to invite so high a liver, so great a 
dandy, as the moth. There's many a homesick dame 
would welcome the pest for the sake of indulging the 
habits of Old England. 

John : At any rate, you will see that no rust corrupts 
them. 

Standish : A}^ that I will. Look at this breastplate. 
Well I remember the day it saved my life in a skirmish. 
Here is the dint of the bullet fired point-blank at my heart. 
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles 
Standish would now be mold in the Flemish morasses. 

John (looking up) : The breath of the Lord slackened 
the speed of the bullet. He has preserved you to be our 
shield and weapon. 

Standish : This is the sword I fought with in Flanders. 
I would give my copy of the Artillery Guide if I coidd 
decipher its inscription. [He scans it intently.] 

John: Better than to know the meaning of its char- 
acters, is to know it was given by one who owes his life 
to your bravery. 

Standish : Tut, tut, John ! That was all in the work 
of a man's day. I like to think those silent Arabian words 
mean, Keep me, nor let me sleep. [He polishes busily.] 
See how they are burnished, as if for an arsenal ! That is 
because I have done it myself, not left it to others. Serve 



THE COURTSHIP 17 

yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage. 
So I take care of my arms as you take care of your ink- 
horn. Besides, they are my soldiers, my great invincible 
army, and, like Caesar, I know the name of each. 

[Alden laughs as he writes. Standi sh takes another weapon and 

glances off left.] 

Standish: You can see my brazen howitzer planted 
on the roof of the church; a preacher who speaks to the 
purpose. 

John: And steady and strong, filled with irresistible 
logic. 

Standish: And orthodox, John, forget not its ortho- 
doxy! I think we are ready now for assault from the 
Indians. Let them come, if they like, and the sooner they 
try it, the better. [He goes to the rear and looks of. A 
profound sadness is upon him.] Yonder, on the hill by 
the sea, lies buried my Rose. Of all who came in the 
Mayflower she was the first to die upon this rocky coast. 
The wheat we have planted grows green above her and 
those others who lie buried. Better to hide from Indian 
scouts the graves of our people lest they count them and 
learn how few of us are left. 

John : A hill is a fitting place for our dead. The breast 
of a hill is nearer heaven. 

Standish: My Rose needed no hill. 

[He goes to the table and, after hesitating a moment over the hooks, he 
chooses his *' Caesar" and seats himself. Priscilla comes out 
of her house. She has a basket on her arm and carries a trowel.] 

John : Good day, Priscilla. 

[She curtsies in greeting and goes toward the Captain as he rises in 
manifest embarrassment.] 
? 



1 8 THE COURTSHIP 

Priscilla: That is the book I so often see you read. 
What is it called, Captain Standish? 

[Standish tries to speak, then silently offers the book for her inspection.] 

Priscilla: The Commentaries of Caesar. [Saucily.] I 
had hoped it was the Bible, sir. 

[Standish shakes his head. He throws a glance of appeal At John.] 

John: Caesar was a great man. Somewhere I have 
read — I have forgot where — that he could dictate seven 
letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs. 

Priscilla : Truly a vain, self-centered man. Memoirs, 
indeed ! One can be much more usefully employed than 
in telling all about one's self. Lest I be tempted to linger 
and do the same, proving myself no wiser than this Caesar, 
I will go to my task of digging herbs. [Exit.] 

Standish: Deuce take it, John! What comes over 
me at the sight of a woman? 

John: You are certainly in retreat then. 

Standish : It 's all right when I 'm just thinking of 'em, 
but get me face to face with 'em — And the prettier they 
are the worse it is! [He looks in the direction Priscilla 
has gone. He clears his throat.] There is something I 
would say to you, John — but no matter now. Let it 
wait awhile. 

[They resume their former occupations.] 

Standish : Truly a great man was Caesar. He fought 
five hundred battles, conquered a thousand cities, was 
twice married before he was twenty — and many times 
after. 

John {smiling) : There are those who would challenge 
his wisdom. 



THE COURTSHIP 19 

Standish: He, too, fought in Flanders, finally 
stabbed to his death by Brutus, his friend. He should 
have had a friend like you, one he could safely trust. 
[Resumes his reading. Looks up in excitement] Do you 
know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders ? The 
rear guard of his army had retreated, the front had even 
given way, too, and the great Twelfth Legion was crowded 
so closely together there was no room for their swords. 
He seized a shield from a soldier, put himself at the head 
of his troops, and, calHng on each by name, commanded 
the captains to order their ensigns forward. Then he 
made them widen their ranks to give more room for their 
weapons. And so he won the day, the battle of something- 
or-other. That's what I always say: if you want a thing 
well done, you must do it yourself. 

[Enter Mary Chilton, left, rear. As she passes Standish and 
John on her way to the Brewsfers', she dips them a curtsey.] 

John: Good day, Mary Chilton. 
[Standish hows.] 

Mary: Do you know if Priscilla is at home? 
John: She is in the garden, digging herbs for Mistress 
Brewster. 

Mary : Thanks, John. 

[Mary goes the way of Priscilla. John fetches a sigh. Standish 
looks at him with a laugh.] 

Standish: A gusty sigh, John— like as if the winds 
of romance were blowing through you. I wish you joy 
of lovely Mary Chilton. 

John: Nay, Captain, but there is a secret I would 
share with you. 



/ 



20 THE COURTSHIP 

[Priscilla and Mary return. They wave their hands in passing, 
and at the doorstep speak a few words to each other. Mary goes 
^fff fight, and Priscilla enters the house. Standish rises.] 

Standish: I said the matter upon which I wished to 
talk cotdd wait. But it cannot. I must speak now. 

[He starts pacing back and forth. John pushes aside his papers.] 

John: Speak. I am ready to listen. 

Standish : The Scriptures say it is not good for a man 
to be alone. Every hour of the day I feel it. Life has 
been a weary waste since Rose died. I have been sick 
at heart, past the healing of friendship. Often I have 
thought of the maiden Priscilla. She, too, is alone: 
father, mother, brother, even Robert Carter, the faithful 
servant, swept away this winter. I watched her come 
and go, to the grave of the dead, to the bed of the dying, 
and I said to myself, if ever there are angels on earth, 
as there are in heaven, I have seen and known two: 
and Priscilla holds in my life the place the other had to 
abandon. 

[John has made several efforts to speak, hut Standish has stayed him.] 

Standish: This thought has come to my heart and 
nested there, but never have I dared to give it wing. I 
am called valiant for the rhost part, but in this I am all 
coward. The granite in me melts and turns to water. 
Go, John, go to Priscilla and say that a blimt old captain, 
a man of action, not speech, off ers the hand and the heart 
of a soldier — not in those words, of course, but you find 
my meaning. I am for war, not phrases. 

John {bewildered, trying to mask his dismay by lightness) : 
Believe me — I know I should bungle such a message. If 
you would have it well done — I am repeating your own 



THE COURTSHIP 21 

maxim— you must not leave it to others; you must do it 
yourself. 

Standish (gravely shaking his head): The maxim is 
good, but should be used with discretion. We must not 
waste our powder for nothing. As I have just said, I am 
not a maker of phrases. I can march up to a fortress and 
summon it to surrender, but march up to a woman with 
such a proposal— I cannot! I am not afraid of bullets 
or cannon shot; but of a thundering No I point-blank from 
the mouth of a woman, that, I confess, I am afraid of. 

John: But, Captain, I— I— 

Standish: You are a scholar, and could speak so no 
maid could resist. Furthermore, you hold in close esteem 
the interests of the heart of me, your friend— as I, before 
God, do so esteem anything concerning the interests of 
you, my friend. 

John: Captain, conquer this folly. Speak to her 
yourself. 

Standish: I know what would happen. My words 
would die stillborn. I should stand like a zany in her 
presence. I'd have no chance with her. 

John: Your heart would come to your rescue. 

Standish: Nay. I know my left-handed ways even 
better than you. But once she is my own I could cherish 
her and give to her the home and the protection she is in 
need of. 

[John looks at him dumbly.] 

Standish: Why, man, you're not being stood against 
a wall at daybreak, to be shot ! 

John: You don't know what you ask of me— I know 
I should bungle it. 



22 THE COURTSHIP 

Standish: I have faith that a bolt sped by you will 
not fail of its mark. 

John : I 'm but a poor marksman. ^ 

Standish (taking his hand) : Surely you cannot refuse 
what I ask in the name of our friendship. 

John (imth a groan) : Have your way. 

Standish: That's the lad for me! 

[John is moving restlessly. He speaks with effort.] 

John: I have never told you — when Rose lay dying 
she asked me to guard your interests — to do all in my 
power to make you happy. 

Standish: That was always her way — thinking of 
others. 

John: I told her whatever you asked of me — when- 
ever you needed me — I would not fail you. She took 
my hand in hers and I promised. 

Standish : Spoken like the friend you are. I am not 
one to say much — but you mean more to me than even 
you could put into words. [He looks toward the Brew- 
ster s\] I don't know when your opportunity will come, 
but when it does, God speed it! And God speed your 
own wooing, John. 

[Exit Standish indoors. John is held in the grip of a long, long 
thought. Then he tears across the papers he has written and 
thrusts them into his pocket. He strides to the Brewster home. 
Singing had come from there shortly before Standish had gone 
indoors. Priscilla is singing an old anthem, the Hundredth 
Psalm. John stoops to pluck a cluster of mayflowers, pausing 
at the threshold to listen. Then, with resolution, he knocks. 
Priscilla appears at the door.] 

Priscilla : I was sure it was you : I know yotir knock. 



THE COURTSHIP 23 

Besides, I was thinking of you as I sat there singing and 
spinning. 

[John silently hands her the mayflowers he had gathered.] 

Priscilla : Thank you, John, I do love mayflowers. 

John: So do I. 

Priscilla: Even that huge blossom of the sea that 
brought us to a land so full of dangers — do you love even 
that Mayflower f 

John : Ay, even that one. As for danger, it is every- 
where. 

Priscilla: Truly said. Living on Plymouth Planta- 
tion is like living on the peaceful rim of a crater. But 
come in, John. 

John: Nay, come out. Why should the gift of sun- 
shine go to waste? 

Priscilla (shaking a finger) : Ah, John, spoken more 
like a Cavalier than one who has joined the hard-headed 
Nonconformists. Think you not most of the good men 
hold shadow to be more seemly than sunshine? 

John: Stop laughing, you witch, and come. 

Priscilla: But what of my spinning? I promised 
Mistress Brewster it should be finished by sundown. 

John: Let your work follow you. Be its master! 

[He goes indoors, Priscilla watching amusedly. He returns with 
the spinning wheel, which he places near the bench.] 

Priscilla (seating herself): Are you not fearful, sir, 
lest I weave into my pattern too much of gladness and 
light? 

John: We worship the same God, you and I, and I, 
as well as you, believe His design to be a blending of duty 
and delight. 



24 THE COURTSHIP 

Priscilla (spinning; John near) : Between you and 
me and the sunrise, John Alden, I think the devil finds 
me good grazing ground. I cannot pull a sober face over- 
long, and at times there is a frightful itching at my heels 
which, on my word, I believe nothing can cure but — shhh 
— dancing ! Is not that wicked of me ? 

John: To my way of thinking, the path to heaven is 
mostly plodded by feet too heavy to keep out of the mire. 
A little dancing on the way might shake off some of the 
mud and make us cleaner for the end of our journey. 

Priscilla: You are such a comfort! I cannot help 
feeling that laughter and gladness and singing are a part 
of the day's work. It is a relief to find the rigors of 
rehgion comfortably relaxed in you and Mary Chilton 
and — yes, too, in Captain Standish. He is a good man, 
though not of our faith, and has not too many fences 
built about him. 

John: Speaking of Captain Standish — 

Priscilla: John, does homesickness never fasten 
itself upon you? 

John : There are moments — nay, days — But speak- 
ing of Captain Standish — 

Priscilla (dreamily): 1 have been thinking all day 
and dreaming all night of the hedgerows of England. 
They are in blossom now, and the country is like a 
garden. 

John (falling in with her mood) : Ay, - and in the lanes 
the linnet and the lark are breaking their very hearts with 
singing. 

Priscilla: And I have been seeing the village street 
and the dear familiar neighbors, stopping to gossip 
together, and going about as of old. 



THE COURTSHIP 25 

John : And at the end of the street stands the church 
with ivy hugging its gray tower, and with quiet graves 
nestled in its churchyard. 

Priscilla: Elder Brewster and his wife are kind to 
me— oh, so good and kind — yet at times my heart is so 
saddened I almost wish myself back in England. You 
will say it is wrong, but I almost wish I were to be on the 
Mayflower tomorrow when it sets sail for home. 

John: Stouter hearts than a woman's have quailed 
in this terrible winter. Yours is tender and trusting and 
needs a stronger to lean on. And so I would tell you — 

Priscilla {with interest) : Yes, John? 

John: I came over expressly to say — 

[Captain Standish comes out of his house, his " Caesar" in his hand. 
Seeing Priscilla and John, he stops, stares, and goes indoors again.] 

V^i^cii.'LK {vexedly) \ How stupidly he acted. And his 
Caesar with him, of course ! 

John: Caesar was a great man, and so is Miles 
Standish. 

Priscilla {with a toss of her head): Great, indeed! 
Both of them put together would n't make the half of 
some folk I know. [She steals a look at him] But you 
were saying something he interrupted. 

John: Nay, I think not — I think I was only — 

Priscilla {sweeping him another glance, then concerning 
her eyes with her spinning): Yes, you were saying that a 
woman has not so stout a heart as a man, and that I — 
you said something about my needing to lean on someone. 

John: I did say that. It is true, you need a strong 
arm to rest on, a steady hand to lead you. So I have 
come with an offer of marriage from a man both great and 
good, Captain Miles Standish. 



26 THE COURTSHIP 

[Priscilla looks at him with sorrow and amazement in her face. 
There is a long silence.] 

Priscilla: If the great Captain of Plymouth be so 
eager to wed me, why does he not take the trouble to woo 
me? If I am not worth the wooing, surely I am not worth 
the winning. 

John : I must have spoken clumsily. Our "Captain 
has no peer, but you, none better, know his shyness in the 
presence of women. 

Priscilla : Cowardice. 

John: Ay, cowardice if you will, but on the great 
green planet there breathes no other so brave as he. 

Priscilla: One black smudge spoils the page. 

John: It should melt your heart, not congeal it, that 
a hero like the Captain should be so modest, so immindful 
of his honors, that he is abashed before you, rather than 
swaggering of gesture and overconfident of speech. 

Priscilla: If he has no tongue for sentiment before 
marriage, think you he would grow one after the wedding? 
That is the way with you men: when you make up your 
minds, after considering this one, and that one, rejecting, 
choosing, comparing one with another, you suddenly 
make known your wishes and are amazed if they are not 
lapped up like pussy's cream from a saucer. 

John : You are hasty — 

Priscilla: Surely a woman's affection is not a thing 
to be asked for and had merely for the asking ! When one 
is in love, one not only says it, but shows it. 

John: You shall not so lightly dismiss the suit of 
the best, the bravest man God knows how to fashion. 
Think of the perils he has faced, the problems he has 
conquered ! 



THE COURTSHIP 27 

Priscilla: There are other perils and problems than 
those of battlefields. 

John: Remember how freely he has cast in his lot 
with the people of this Plantation, and, though not of 
their faith, shares the afflictions and pledges the cause. 

Priscilla {tapping a foot) : Had he not done so, he 
would not be the great man of the Plantation, the mighty- 
Captain of Plymouth. 

John: Do you believe all the honors we might hang 
upon him would equal those he could have won in bigger 
fields ? He is descended from Hugh Standish of Duxbury 
Hall, and heir to vast estates. Though he has been 
defrauded of them, he still bears, and bears right nobly, 
the family arms. 

Priscilla: I do not question his family — which after 
all is but a hazard of forttme. 

John {warming to his task) : It is no hazard of fortune 
that he is generous and a man of spotless honor. Though 
somewhat rough of manner, he has a nature of the kind- 
liest, and it is no mere hazard of fortune that during our 
blighting winter he attended the sick and comforted the 
dying with a hand and heart as gentle as a woman's. 

Priscilla : I admit that he ministered with the grace 
you credit him — yet so did Elder Brewster, and John 
Bradford, and you, John, you yourself. 

John: But we are not men of war; gentleness from us 
is no such gracious miracle as in the Captain. 

Priscilla : Miracles are too abnormal for human com- 
fort. It is better to know that gentleness and thought- 
fulness are natural — as they are in you, John. 

John: Somewhat hasty he is, and hot, I grant you, 
and headstrong, too, and stern on occasion, as befits the 



»8 THE COURTSHIP 

call of soldiering, but hearty always, and forgiving; and 
though he is not overhigh of stature he is not to be 
laughed at because of it, for he is tall of heart. 

Priscilla: On, John, on! There may be a few more 
virtues you have overlooked. Just mark your song da 
capo and start anew. 

John: How can you make a jest of this! 

Priscilla : I shall jest no more. But in praising your 
friend you sweep aside your own qualities. You are 
worth ten Captain Miles Standishes! 

John (hotly): Any woman in Plymouth, yea, any 
woman in England, might feel herself proud and happy 
to be the wife of Miles Standish. 

Priscilla (who ponders Ms words for a space, then speaks 
with sudden archness and an undercurrent of laughter as 
she rises): O John! John! Why don't you speak for 
yoiu-self, John? 

[She flees indoors and leaves John caught up in clouds of rapture and 
dismay. He starts to follow, Priscilla watching behind open win- 
dow, then resolutely turns and crosses to his home. He pauses in 
thought as Standish comes out, hook in hand. Standish is full 
of a great cheer.] 

Standish: By my faith, John— nay, that will never 
do. It is held a kind of blasphemy to swear so violently. 
[He scratches his head.] I have it! By my heart, John, 
by my heart, how fares your errand? You have been 
gone so long a time I have fought ten battles and sacked a 
city in your absence. Sit you down and tell me all that 
happened. I nearly blundered upon you. I had no 
glimmering, until I saw you, that you were furthering my 
wish so speedily. That's the good friend, John, to let 
no dawdling stay the feet of service. 



THE COURTSHIP 29 

[He seats himself genially on the stump and motions John to the bench. 
John remains standing, nervously turning his hat in his hands.] 

John : I saw her. 

Standish {smiling): Ay, I saw that you saw her. 
[He wags his head delightedly.] 

John: First we talked — 

Standish : To be sure, man, ye talked. What did ye 
talk off 

John: Of sunshine — of the patterns we have a right 
to weave. And she finds it a comfort that Mary Chilton 
and I, and you, Captain, you, never time our steps to. 
doldnmis and dirges. 

Standish {with satisfaction and a slap on his knee) : She 
said that, did she? I like a maid not too straitlaced. 
Oh, she and I will do famously! But go on, John, go on! 

John: She spoke of springtime in England, how the 
hedgerows are all a-blossom now, and of how the weather- 
vane of her heart points to homesickness at times. 

Standish: Ay, that's troublesome business, home- 
sickness. 

John: She chid herself for feeling so, but she vowed 
there were days when she almost wished herself back in 
England. 

Standish : Tut, tut ! 'Twill not do. We shall have 
to change all that. I can fairly see her pretty face as she 
took herself to task, half-guilty, half-roguish, but, by my 
faith, John, wholly lovely ! 

John: And then we talked of — let me see — 

Standish: Come to the point, man. 

John {miserably) : Then I told her of your offer — 

Standish: Ha! and what had she to say to that? 



30 THE COURTSHIP 

John: Nothing for a space, then: "If the great Cap- 
tain of Plymouth be so eager to wed me, why does he not 
come himself and take the trouble to woo me ? ' ' 

Standish: Hum! Said she that? 

John: She asked if you have no tongue for wooing 
before you are married, where would it be found after the 
wedding. 

Standish: The saucy minx! [Then with a great 
laugh, pounding his thigh.] Well, I like her to be spicy! 
May I be drawn and quartered if I am not glad that the 
French in her outstrips the more sober Saxon. So that 's 
what the jade said: If I find no tongue for wooing before 
the wedding, where shall I find it after! By the Old 
Harry, I'll show her! [He starts to his feet impulsively, 
then reseats himself] But tell all, John: how you came 
out of that comer she had got you into. 

John: I told her the big issues you have to face — the 
coimcils you have to attend — the decisions to be made — 
the fights to be fought. I dwelt on your greatness of heart 
in throwing in your lot with a band of people not even 
of your own faith. 

Standish: Nay, John, I am no hero. Go slow there, 
John, go slow. 

John : Then I spoke of your family honor, and of how 
gallant are your arms. And I ended by saying that any 
woman in all England might be proud to be the wife of 
Miles Standish. 

[There is a pause.] 

Standish: Speak, man! You can't expect me to tell 
this part for you. Speak for yourself, John. 

UoHN gives a start.] 



THE COURTSHIP 31 

Standish : Man alive ! what is it ? 
John: That is what 5/j^ said. 

[For an incredulous moment Standish stares at John, pondering the 
answer, then he leaps to his feet as its meaning assails him.] 

Standish: You have betrayed me, John Alden, you 
have betrayed me. You have supplanted, defrauded me, 
Miles Standish, your friend ! You have made a mocking 
stock of me. 

John: Nay, Captain — 

Standish : One of my ancestors ran his sword through 
the heart of Wat Tyler. What shall prevent me from 
running mine through the heart of another traitor? 
Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a treason to 
friendship. 

John : Hear me ! 

Standish: I thought it was Mary Chilton you were 
mooning over, and you let me think it. Even as I spoke 
to you of her whose name shall never pass my lips, you 
were meditating your own pursuit of her — nay, had con- 
summated it, for aught I know. 

John: That is not true. It is unworthy of you. 

Standish: You have lived under my roof. I have 
cherished you and loved you as a brother. You have fed 
at my board, and drunk at my cup, and I have intrusted 
to you my sacred and secret thought, my honor itself. 

John: Judge me not, Captain. In what have I ever 
failed you? 

Standish: You, too, Brutus! Woe to the name of 
friendship hereafter. Brutus was Caesar's friend and 
you were mine, but from now on there shall be nothing 
between us but war. 



32 THE COURTSHIP 

[John reaches a hand toward Standish, but the latter strides indoors. 
JoB.'ii flings out his arms in a tempest of despair and stares upward 
as if he would force the very heavens to hear him. Voices are 
heard. A group of town councillors enter, headed by Elder 
Brewster and Hobomok, their Indian interpreter.] 

The Elder: Where is Captain Standish? 

John: He is within. 

[The Elder knocks, and John goes off. Standish comes out.] 

The Elder: The council needs your help, Captain. 

Standish: Savages? 

The Elder: Ay. An Indian, thought to be of the 
Narragansetts, has just been skulking on our borders. 
John Rowland, here, saw him. 

Standish : The red devils are apt to mean ill to aught 
they chance upon. We'll look into this. 

[An Indian glides on. In his hand is the skin of a rattlesnake stuff ed^ 
quiver-like, with arrows. He holds it aloft, then flings it in chal- 
lenge at their feet.] 

Standish: A snakeskin stuffed with arrows! That 
means war. 

The Elder: Let us strive to make peace with the 
Narragansetts. Let us convert, not slay, these hostile 
neighbors. It is the only Christian thing to do. 

Standish {in quick wrath) : What ! Do you mean to 
make war with milk and water of roses? Is it to shoot 
red squirrels we have planted our howitzer on yonder 
roof, or is it to shoot red devils? The only tongue a 
savage understands is the tongue of fire that speaks from 
the mouth of a cannon. 

[Murmurs run through the group of men. The Indian, calm, 
deflant, stands with folded arms.] 



THE COURTSHIP 33 

The Elder: Not from the cannon's mouth were the 
tongues of fire Saint Paul and the other Apostles spake 
with. 

[The murmurs are renewed. Mistress Brewster and 
Priscilla come out of doors and listen.] 

Standish: Leave this matter to me. It is mine by 
right. Tomorrow the Mayflower starts for England. 
Before her sails are belHed with the- wind, my men and I 
will be on our way to meet the enemy. War is a terrible 
trade, but in a cause that is righteous the smell of powder 
is sweet. 

[With contempt he tosses the arrows from the snakeskin and, filling 
it with powder and bullets, hands it to the messenger.] 

Standish (to the Indian) : This is your answer ! 

[The Indian receives it and glides away with his message.] 

[Curtain.] 

ACT II 

Scene i : It is in the gray of early morning of the following day in 
the harbor at Plymouth. . A boat rides at anchor. The shore is 
bleak, with but scant rock and scraggly brush to break its outline. 
The waves wash the sands. A savage lifts his head from behind a 
rock and, stooping, passes ghostily into the shadows. A wolf 
howls. The stillness is broken by a measured tread. Standish 
enters with his band of eight soldiers and Hobomok.] 

Standish {in a voice clear hut subdued) : Halt ! Here, 
in the shelter of the harbor, let us send up a hope for 
strength. 

[A short pause as the men stand at prayer. Standish lifts his eyes 
and draws his sword in salute. The men are marching off stage* 
Standish following, when John comes on.] 

3 



34 THE COURTSHIP 

John: Captain! One word before you go. 

Standish: Halt! Wait for me by the Great Oak. 
Forward, march! [To John, curtly.] What is it? 

John: All night I lay awake thinking of you. I saw 
you march off, and it came over me that you might never 
return, that I might never have a chance to wipe away 
your misunderstanding. 

Standish : Be brief. There 's a long trail ahead of me. 

John: What has happened to your heart, your great 
heart that was big enough for all the world? 

Standish: It is full of bitterness. 

John: It should not be bitter because of me. I am 
still worthy to be called your friend. 

Standish: Speak not the word friend. 

John : You shall not leave me like this. This is what 
I must tell you: Never have I spoken one word of love 
to Priscilla. 

[Standish shrugs.] 

John: You are scornful, you are unbelieving. You 
shall believe me ! To force you to acknowledge my good 
faith, I take my oath that never, while you live, shall a 
word of love to Priscilla pass my lips. When have I 
ever lied to you? During the night I made my resolution. 
If you refuse to understand, if you brush aside my loyalty, 
my love, as so much dust, my work is ended here. I shall 
sail today for England. 

Standish (with a groan): Before God, John, the loss 
of the maid is shadowy compared to the loss of my friend. 

John: For the sake of what we have been to each 
other, for the sake of the storms we have weathered 
together, for the sake of the hours of peace we have 
shared, give me your hand.. 



THE COURTSHIP 35 

[John holds out his hand; Standish looks at him long and searchingly 
and, to the joy 0/ John, is about to take it, when Priscilla enters. 
As Standish sees her, he roughly dashes John's hand aside.] 

Standish: Never. [He goes of .] 
John: Another moment and I should have felt his 
hand again. 

Priscilla: What is it, John? What ails your high 
and mighty hero? 

John: It is the finger of God. 

Priscilla {going to him): I don't know what you 
mean. I came to see the crew pull off for the Mayflower. 
[She timidly puts out a hand toward him as if to lay it on 
his shoulder.] 

John: Tempt me not, Priscilla, tempt me not beyond 
my strength to bear. 

[He goes off, Priscilla taking a step toward him, then falling hack. 
A savage glides out and away. Priscilla runs to look after him 
as Bartle Allerton comes on.] 

Priscilla : A savage just passed here. 

[Another Indian comes on and slips off after his fellow.] 

Bartle : It may mean an attack. They are scouting 
to learn when Captain Standish has gone, and when the 
Mayflower shall have sailed. With the crew away, and 
the soldiers, the settlement will have few to protect it. 

Priscilla {pointing the way) : Run, Bartle— run after 
the Captain— you can reach him— tell him he is needed 
here before he starts on his march. 

[Bartle runs off. A few settlers arrive. They wander down to the 
shore and sit on the rocks. Mary Chilton comes on, a parcel 
in her hand. She greets Priscilla gaily.] 



36 THE COURTSHIP 

Mary: This parcel goes to England. Three guesses 
as to its contents. 

Priscilla {somewhat bitterly)'. Dreams? 

Mary: Nay: I am too busy dreaming my dreams to 
pack any in a basket. 

Priscilla: Hopes? 

Mary: Nay, nor hopes, for I would not be sending 
them away from our Plantation. We need all our dreams 
and hopes right here. 

Priscilla {suddenly smiling) : The little black hen 
that Mistress Hopkins crossed the sea with? It may be 
longing to lay eggs again for kings and queens and gentle- 
men. 

Mary: Indeed not! 'Tis too good a Rebel. You 
cannot guess. I shall have to tell you. Arrows! 

Priscilla : Arrows ! 

Mary: To show the good folk the kind of toys our 
neighbors play with. Some have deer-horn points, and 
some the claws of eagles. And guess what two of them 
are! One is the arrow which stuck in John Howland's 
coat during the skirmish, and the other is the one that 
struck above Captain Standish's heart and he never even 
knew it was there. 

Priscilla : That looks as if he had none. 

Mary: There's a third arrow I'd like to add. It's 
the one that has lodged in the very center of the heart of 
John Alden. 

Priscilla: Think you he knows it? 

Mary: To be sure, for he bared his heart and cried: 
Shoot ! 

[She moves away laughingly, and Priscilla mingles with the 
others. Sarah and one oj the crew come on.] 



THE COURTSHIP ■ 37 

Sarah: Take this package, Danny, and give it to 
Susanna. Tell her as how I think of her every hour of 
the day. 

Danny: Come on back with me, Aunt Sarah. Dinna 
stay in this Gawd-forsaken spot. 

Sarah: Hush, lad! This spot is found of God, not 
forgotten of Him. 

Danny: But you've no call to stay now that Uncle 
and Jimmy are dead. Come on back with me. There 's 
naught of your own left here. 

Sarah: I'll not turn back the now, Danny. Your 
uncle and me, even little Jimmy himself, set our hands 
to the plough, and they'd never a-tumed back if it 
hadn't been as death overtook them. I'll do the same 
— bide here till he comes for me. 

Danny (as he takes her parcel) : It 's sore hard to leave 
you, Aunt Sarah. 

[He kisses her awkwardly and goes off. Sarah wipes her eyes when 
he is out of sight. Martha enters. She goes to Sarah.] 

Martha (bitterly) : This is a fell day for me. I want 
to go back, but my man won't hear on it. 

Sarah : Thank your God you have your man to stay 
along with. 

Martha: If I was free to go, like you, kings' horses 
couldn't hold me back. 

Sarah: I be not free. I've got two graves on yon 
hillside. 

Martha : O Sarah ! I 'm a wicked woman. I '11 stay 
though it be the end o' me. 

Sarah : You '11 be right glad you did. 

[She gives a pat to the other. Bartle comes on. John enters 
from the other side, carrying a bundle.] 



38 THE COURTSHIP 

Bartle (pointing to the bundle): What's this, John? 

John: I am going to sail. 

Bartle: Sail! Man alive! Sail from the spot that 
holds your treasure? 

John: Say no more — I can bear no more. 

Bartle : Well, you have made your decision, and the 
Mayflower is to carry you away. I've made mine, and 
the Mayflower is to sail without me. We are in hourly 
danger of attack. Even now the Red Skins are skulk- 
ing about, biding their chance. I overtook the Captain 
before he had left the settlement, and the sly devils will 
not attack so openly while they know he is here. 

[John suddenly flings his bundle from him.] 

John : What has possessed me ! This is my land, my 
responsibility, my rightful place! Here I stay, too. I 
must have been mad. 

Bartle (heartily) : There speaks the real John Alden. 
Now you are your own man again. 

[He goes off. The rest of the group have wandered away; Priscilla 
and John are left together. John turns and looks at Priscilla 
without a word.] 

Priscilla (demurely but drolly) : Are you so offended, 
sir, that you will not even speak to me? 

John : If I had no words, it is because I mistook you 
for the ghost of my own thoughts. 

Priscilla : It affrights me you should hold me in your 
thoughts, for I doubt not you have me in the stocks of a 
relentless remembering. 

John: Nay, Priscilla — 

Priscilla : I see it in yoiir eyes. If already you have 
not condemned me to those stocks, you were thinking of 



THE COURTSHIP 39 

casting your vote. Which shall you drop in the ballot- 
box, the kernel of com for yea, or a bean, a shiny black 
bean, for nay? 

John: Priscilla — 

Priscilla: Let it be a bean, John, an honest, merciful 
bean, for I like not the thought of the stocks. 

John: You always leave me limping behind. What 
folly to speak of condemnation! 

Priscilla : You give me hope, sir. Perhaps you have 
not yet made up that fearsome judgment of yours. [A 
note of earnestness creeps into her voice, growing as she 
proceeds] Am I so much to blame that yesterday, when 
you were pleading the cause of another, my heart, at best 
impulsive and wayward, should have pleaded your own? 

John: How can you say so, Priscilla? 

Priscilla: Let me speak, John. You should forgive 
me for having said what I can never unsay; for there are 
moments when the heart is so full that if it chance to be 
shaken, or the pebble of some careless word is dropped 
into its depths, it overflows and its secret is spilled 
forever. Yesterday when you spoke of Captain Standish, 
praising his virtues, making his very defects into 
the image of those virtues, extolling this, magnifying 
that, even lauding his fighting, for all the world as if 
fighting or fulsome praising could win the heart of a 
woman, you shocked me, you shook me out of myself. 
In exalting your hero you entirely overlooked John Alden 
and other noble men. Forgive me for the sake of the 
friendship between us. 

John: How can you think I was angered against you? 
With myself alone was I vexed, seeing how badly I had 
managed the matter given in my keeping. 



40 THE COURTSHIP 

Priscilla: No, you were angry with me. It is the 
fate of women to sit patient and silent, waiting like word- 
less ghosts till some questioning voice dissolves the silence. 
That is why so many of our lives are like underground 
rivers, chafing their channels with endless and profitless 
murmurs. 

John: Heaven forbid, Priscilla! To me they seem 
more like the shining rivers that v/atered the Garden of 
Eden — more like the Euphrates that flowed through the 
desert of Havilah, filling the land with beauty. 

Priscilla : That shows how little you value what I am 
saying. When I speak frankly, asking only for under- 
standing, you turn my words aside with flattering phrases. 
That is not true to the best in you. I expect your spirit 
to lift mine to a higher level. 

John: You who are all spirit, how can you say so? 

Priscilla: Let us be what we are, speak what we 
think, and keep ourselves true to the pledge of friendship. 
It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to say it: I 
have always liked to be with you. That is why I felt a 
little bruised and htirt when you urged me to marry your 
friend, though he were Captain Miles Standish! Should 
he be ivnce the hero you think him, your friendship is 
worth more to me than all the love he might give me. 
[She extends her hand, and John grasps it.] 

John: You have healed my wounds. Of all who offer 
you friendship, let me always be the first and the truest. 

Priscilla (archly): Now tell me what otu* terrible 
Captain said when he discovered my ingratitude. 

John: I have not the heart for the telling. You 
should have seen his face when he thought his honest love 
flouted and tossed at his feet. 



THE COURTSHIP 41 

Priscilla: He has an overhigh spirit. 

John: Were his spirit a whit less high, where would 
be the future of our hard-earned liberty? I like his spirit 
to be high. He has Stardust in his hair. 

Priscilla: But clay upon his boots. 

John: Thank God for the clay that keeps him in the 
ways of men. 

Priscilla: Of the ways of men he may know some- 
what — but not of the ways of women. 

John: His great heart was close to bursting when he 
felt that I, his friend, had betrayed him. 

Priscilla : He is a little chimney and heated hot in a 
moment. 

John : He is the best, the bravest man I know. Help 
me, Priscilla, help me! I thought to sail today. It 
seemed the escape from a future I could not solve. But 
it came over me that I could not go. 

Priscilla: Why, John? 

John: In a flash I saw the dangers on every side, and 
I knew I should be all coward not to stay and do my part. 

Priscilla : How can we thank you — how can I thank 
you? 

John: Yesterday the thought of friendship with you 
would have been bitter. Today you have made me see 
how sweet is friendship, and service in its name. 

[The Master of the ship enters, a lantern in his hand. He is followed 
by some of his crew and Bartle. He is full of bustle and salutes 
John hastily.] 

Master: The rest of the crew are on the Mayflower. 
We must look sharp and not lose the tide. 

Bartle: Will you take this packet. Master, and see 
that it reaches England? 



42 THE COURTSHIP 

Master : Ay. 

[He crams it into his pocket. E?iter more settlers, filled with varying 
emotions, some carrying lanterns, some carrying parcels. Many 
crowd about the Master offering him letters and packets.] 

Man: Here, Master Shipman, take this letter. It's 
to one I '11 never see again. 

Woman: Take this, Master. It's a parcel o' shells 
I 'm a-sendin' my girl. Not much, but all I could think on. 

Young Girl {happily) : I 'm near daft with joy that 
the big boat is sailin'. 

Woman (sadly): I don't see you've call to be glad. 
You're not sailin' on it. 

Young Girl: Sail on it! I'm here to stay. But I 
am sending a letter, and I know my sister will come on 
the first boat that heads for the Plantation. [She gives 
an excited skip and mingles with the crowd.] 

Child: O Master, Master! Here be a wee letter I'm 
a-sendin' to God. He dinna seem to be around these 
parts, and I thought as how ye might set it afloat on the 
sea. Mebbe he's there v/here it's so big-like. 

Woman: 'Tis blasphemy the child utters. Snatch 
the letter! Bum it! 

Child: There beent naught in it God could find no 
fault with. I only told him as how I minded the pretty 
garden He give me at home. I dinna even ask Him for 
one here. I thought as how He might understand. 

Woman: The heathen brat! Snatch it! Burn it! 
[The Child struggles to retain the letter] 

John: Leave the child alone. Stand back. Give it 
here, my lad. I will see that some one sets it a-drift. I 
doubt not a miracle of wings will carry it to its goal. 

Master: Come, boys, there's no time to idle. [In a 



THE COURTSHIP 43 

loud tone.] I'll give all of you another chance — another 
grab at the bag. Free passage to England to any who '11 
sail with me. [He pauses.] This is your last chance. 
[Another pause. He speaks in his ordinary tone.] Not a 
soul to take me up on a downright free proposition. 
Blawst me if I can see why you're so in love with this 
mud hole ! 

[More settlers hurry in. The excitement increases.] 

Master: Now, boys, it's time to push off. Good-by, 
folks. Old England ought to be proud of you. When 
you hear the signal gun, you may know it's saying: 
Here's to the pluck you're made of! 

The Crew {lustily) : Ay, ay ! 

\Good-hys are called. The Master, with his pockets bulging, hurries 
to the boat, his crew at his heels. They get in and push off, those 
on shore crowding about to see the start. The sailors sing; occa- 
sional shouts are heard. Those who remain listen sadly, dreamily, 
eagerly. Bartle is with Mary, John with Priscilla. The 
stouter-hearted comfort the weeping. The Elder, touched with 
the spirit of consecration, raises his hands as he speaks to his 
people.] 

The Elder: Lord God, again the Mayflower is open- 
ing her petals and even now blossoming in the winds. 
Be Thy breath in those winds, God, and bear this fragile 
flower in safety to the shores of home. We thank Thee 
that not one who came to this new land with the hope of 
conforming it to Thy uses has forsaken his task to return. 
Quicken our hearts with strength to build for the morrow 
and with courage to remember today. Amen. 

[The signal gun booms.] 
[Curtain.] 



44 THE COURTSHIP 

Scene 2 : It is the evening of the same day, and the same scene. A 
fire burns. Standish's hand lie sleeping on the ground. Only 
their Captain is on guard. He walks hack and forth, careful to 
avoid the sleepers. He warms his hands at the fire, then seats 
himself on the blanket spread beside it. He draws his sword and 
handles it with affection as he reads the inscription. He rests his 
sword, and as he is plunged in thought his face falls into lines of 
grief, then shame, finally into a hot anger. He begiits to polish the 
sword with vigor. His motions grow less energetic and his face 
softens to gravity. He sighs and, as he sheathes his sword, listens 
alertly. He puts his ear to the ground, then swiftly rises. His 
light touch arouses the sleepers, who are on their feet at once. 

A group of Indians approach stealthily. The two who lead them, 
Wattawamat and Pecksuot, are huge of stature. Their only 
weapons are knives suspended from their necks in sheaths of 
wampum.] 

Wattawamat: Welcome, English. 

Pecksuot: Welcome, English. 

Standish : Greeting, friends, in the name of my people. 

HoBOMOK {to Standish): They have said their only 
words of the White Man's speech. 

Standish: Ay, but back of their words there are 
thoughts which I hear as if spoken. 

Wattawamat {to Hobomok): Washichu taku eya he? 
(What does the White Man say?) 

Hobomok: Taoyate ichageyadya wookiye enichiye. 
(He gives you greeting in the name of his people.) 

Pecksuot : Washichu ob woopeton ota unhapi. Wan- 
yaka ye ! (We have much to trade the White Man. See 
what we have brought.) 

[Some of the Indians display strings of wampum and woven baskets, 
the two leaders watching with narrowed eyes.] 

Hobomok: They say they have much to trade the 
White Man. 



THE COURTSHIP 45 

Standish : Tell them we will gladly barter with them. 

Hobomok: Washichu Itanchan kin hena opetonkte 

iyokipe kta. (The White Chief will be glad to barter 
with you.) 

[Pelts are brought and spread out.] 

One Indian : Shina maqu ! (Give me blankets !) 

Another Indian : Shina ! Shina wachin ! (Blankets ! 
I need blankets, too!) 

Another: Mina! Mina! (Knives! Knives!) 

Another : Mina hena shina iwankab washta ! (Knives 
are better than blankets !) 

Another: Mina kin ee shina iyakab chosniyekta! 
(Knives keep you warmer than blankets !) 

Another : Pshinto unchinpi ! Hena wi qa wikmunke 
iyechacha. (It is beads we want — beads like the sun and 
the rainbow.) 

Standish: What does their clamor mean? 

Hobomok: They ask for blankets and knives. One 
says knives keep you warmer than blankets. They want 
beads the color of the sun and rainbow. 

Wattawamat : Pshinto qa shina unchinpi shni.' Ma- 
zakan qa peta unchinpi ! (We do not want blankets and 
beads. We want muskets and the fire to feed their 
bellies!) 

Others : Mazakan qa peta unkupi ! (Muskets ! Fire ! 
Give us muskets and fire !) 

Hobomok: They ask for muskets and the fire to feed 
the bellies of the muskets. 

Standish (to Pecksuot and Wattawamat) : We can- 
not give you firearms and powder. But we will give you 
seeds for planting. 



46 THE COURTSHIP 

Hobomok: Washichu Itanchan wojupi su nichu kta 
keya. (The White Chief says he will give you seed for 
planting.) 

[A coarse murmur runs through the group of Indians. The soldiers 
consult guardedly. Wattawamat strides closer, and, dropping 
his cloak of conciliation, speaks boldly and loftily.] 

Wattawamat: Washichu nina wachinko, Wattamat 
sdonya. Wattamat chantesuta, kokipe shne. Winyan 
tonpi shni. Hanyetu ed heyakan tonpi, utuhuchan 
wakinyan kaslecha. Tonpi kinhan eya hotanka: Tuwe 
Wattamat chantesuta kin kichi kize kta huwof [He folds 
his arms insolently.] 

Hobomok: He says: Wattawamat can see by the 
fiery eyes of the White Man that he has anger in his 
heart. But the brave Wattawamat does not shrink at 
the sight. He was bom at night from an oak tree riven 
by lightning. He sprang from the oak tree armed with 
lusty weapons, shouting in a voice of thunder: Who is 
there to fight with the brave Wattawamat f 

[As Hobomok ceases, Wattawamat unsheathes his knife and^ 
whetting the blade on his hand, holds it high.] 

Wattawamat : Mina ihupa akan winyan ite kin wan- 
yaka yo ! Tiyata wanji wicha ite bduha. Toksha kichi- 
yuzapi qa cinca ota kta. 

Hobomok: He says: Behold on the handle of my 
knife the face of a woman. I have another at home that 
bears the face of a man. By and by they shall marry and 
there will be plenty of children. 

A Soldier: What does that mean, Captain? 



THE COURTSHIP 47 

Standish : War. 
[More Indians can be seen crouching in the background, some fixing 
their arrows on their bowstrings. Pecksuot advances and with 
savage complaisance strokes the knife hanging at his bosom, half 
unsheathes it, then plunges it back into its scabbard.] 

Pecksuot: Toksha wanyakte kta, wote kta. [He 
gives a sinister smile.] Tuka iye kta shni. Washichu 
Itanchan tanka ihaagunyapi kta uwichayapi hee. Wich- 
asta ciqualahee; winyan kichi wotekta. 

Standish {harshly, having with difficulty held himself 
in check during the taunt apparent in Pecksuot's speech) : 
What does he say? 

Hobomok: He says of his knife: By and by it shall 
see; it shall eat; but it shall not speak. And he says of 
you: This is the Great Chief the White Man has sent 
to destroy us! He is a little man: let him go work with 
the women. 

[With a roar, Standish leaps headlong at Pecksuot and snatches 
the knife from the sheath which hangs at the Indian's neck. A 
war whoop sounds and the air is suddenly filled with the snow of 
flying arrows. The soldiers answer with the fire of musketry. 
The savages flee, closely pursued. Off stage is the sound of fight- 
ing, becoming more faint. Standish and Hobomok return. 
Standish carries his reddened sword.] 

Hobomok: The White Chief may not be big like the 
tree, but he is big enough to stop with dust the mouths of 
the vain and boastful. 

Standish {grimly): Ay, big enough for that. [He 
looks at his sword.] This time I spoke for myself. 

[Curtain.] 



48 THE COURTSHIP 

ACT III 

Scene i: It is early autumn, the same scene as Act I. Priscilla 
sits spinning and humming in the sunshine. At times she stops 
for a bit of dreaming, then, with a smile of remembrance, starts 
her wheel to whirring. Mary Chilton appears, a basket on her 
arm. 

Mary (gaily) : Good day, Priscilla. Do I see you 
dreaming or spinning? 

Priscilla: Why not both? Come, sit beside me. 
John Alden taught me to spin in the sunshine, and when- 
ever the weather bids me, I do my task out here. 

[Mary takes a seat and starts to knit.] 

Priscilla: I see no reason why dreams and spinning 
should not go hand in hand. To my way of thinking, 
spinning without dreams makes but a poor fabric. 

Mary : And but a poor pattern, too. [Saucily extend- 
ing her hand.] Cross my palm with silver and I will tell 
you the pattern you shall weave. 

Priscilla {merrily) : Have your way, good dame. 
[Gives her an imaginary coin.] Take this bit of silver, and 
mind you don't spend it in brawling at the tavern. 

Mary {as she rubs the figment, bites it, stows it in her 
basket, and then takes Priscilla's hand) : Ah, pretty lady, 
I see strange patterns coming from your wheel. 'Tis odd 
for a maid to weave the threads of housebuilding, but 
certain it is I see the swinging of an axe, and the hauling 
of logs, and the devotion of a man to his labors. 

Priscilla: You have a foolish tongue, dame. 

Mary: Now I see the house finished, and it has lat- 
ticed windows, and through their paper panes the yellow 
lights of a home shine forth. And an orchard has been 
planted, and a well dug deep that water be unfaiUng. 



THE COURTSHIP 49 

And, too, there is a stall where a snow-white bullock idles 
in contentment. 

Priscilla: Fie, dame! You prate too busily. 

Mary: The beast's name is Raghorn. 

Priscilla: Why should I weave snow-white bullocks 
in my patterns? It would make but a poor design. 

Mary: You have no designs on the bullock, young 
maiden, but mayhap on his master, one John Alden — 

Priscilla (somewhat bitterly, as she snatches away her 
hand): All the designs in the world will not get you 
the man you love if he be not of a mind to have you — 
though it is easy enough to get the one you have no thought 
for. John Alden's house is not for me. [Throwing off her 
mood.] I can tell you this, Mary Chilton, had I the 
choosing of patterns I would make them full of colors. I 
am so thirsty for color, something beside the gray and 
the black and the white with which my eyes are forever 
filled, that I could drink a whole flagon of daffodil yellow, 
and larkspur blue, and April green, and pink the color of 
corals. 

Mary: Have a care lest you get drunken on beauty. 

Priscilla: God created colors. He must expect us to 
love them. Besides the sea and sky, there 's little color here. 

Mary: And scarcely any flowers. O Priscilla! Do 
you think you could keep a secret ? 

Priscilla: I am a clam; a sphinx; a work box on the 
Sabbath. 

Mary: I brought some seeds with me from home — 
seeds of the flowers I love best. 

Priscilla: What an angel-thought, Mary — a garden 
from home in the cup of your hand ! What has become of 
your seeds? 

4 



n 



50 THE COURTSHIP 

Mary: I forgot them. When the dreadful winter 
passed, when father and mother, Hke yours, slept on the 
hill — 

[Priscilla puts out a hand and touches hers.] 

Mary: Somehow I never thought of flowers. But 
not long ago I was watching a rainbow, and the rainbow 
put me in mind of a garland of blossoms. The season for 
planting was past, but I scattered my seeds in the soil. 

Priscilla: If you watered them with tender tears, 
and sunned them with smiling, I wager the miracle of 
blooming is not past. 

Mary: Yes, they are growing, Priscilla — and I doubt 
not they'll be blooming before long. At times I cannot 
sleep for wishing to see how much they have adventured 
over night. 

Priscilla: I, too, have a secret. See what Squanto 
brought me in exchange for berries I cooked into sauce 
for him. He got them from an English trader. 

[From her basket beside her wheel she draws forth two lengths of silk^ 
one a rose color, the other a glowing blue, which she shakes out 
for better display.] 

Mary: .Oh, the darling things! 

[Priscilla puts a kiss in their folds, and first Mary hugs them^ 

then Priscilla.] 

Priscilla : I hope I did no wrong to kiss them. 

Mary: They were made to be kissed. 

Priscilla: We shall have to love these till your 
flowers bloom. Do they not mind you of the gardens of 
home? 

Mary: Has Mistress Brewster seen them? Or the 
Elder? 



THE COURTSHIP 51 

Priscilla: God forbid! \Witk sudden change] Their 
blueness and their rosiness have got into my heels. 

{She tosses one of the silken lengths to Mary, they throw the gay colors 
over their shoulders and raise their hands as in the beginning of 
a minuet.] 

Mistress Brewster {calling of stage with a rising 
inflection): Priscilla! O Priscilla! 

[The girls start apart, and Priscilla thrusts the silks into her basket. 
Enter Mistress Brewster.] 

Mistress B.: Why, here is Mary Chilton! 

Mary (dipping a curtsey) : I have brought you a pair 
of eggs. Mistress, laid by Mistress Hopkins' little black 
hen, and some of the Elder's favorite Holland seed cakes. 

Mistress B.: That is kind of you and Mistress 
Hopkins. The butter I shall send back could not repay 
the thought though it were made of gold instead of cream. 

[Mary curtsies her thanks.] 

Priscilla: You called me, Mistress? 

Mistress B.: Just to help you remember that this is 
a busy world and spinning must be done. [To Mary.] 
Priscilla is a dutiful lass, but she has taken to spinning in 
the sunshine, and unless I jog her now and then, her wheel 
forgets its purpose. 

Priscilla: And her right hand its cunning. But we 
have it from the Scriptures themselves that even Solomon 
was not arrayed as that which neither toils nor spins. 

Mistress B. (shocked): 'Tis impious, child, to speak 
thus. Let not my good man hear you. [She takes the 
basket and goes off shaking her head.] 

Priscilla : I doubt not that Solomon would prefer us 
arrayed with a dash of blue and a hint of rosy brightness. 



52 THE COURTSHIP 

Mary : I am not half so interested in Solomon on dress 
as I am in John Alden on housebuilding. 

Priscilla: Stop your chatter, Mary. I'd bribe you 
with a string of black wampum if I thought it would make 
you cease. 

Mary: Solomon building his temple spent no more 
thought than has John in hauling and planing the logs 
for his. Weave that into your pattern, Priscilla. 

Priscilla: Even though John feels toward me as 
you would have me believe, I know he would never speak 
so long as a person I shall not name lives or does not 
marry. But to go back to the weaving of patterns, this 
will I weave of a truth, Mary: A man's dwelling is as 
strong as the hand that builds it and as high as the heart 

that plans it. 

[John Alden enters.] 

John: What is this I hear — a phrase so ringing it 
might be sung instead of spoken? 

Mary (teasingly) : Priscilla is making a wondrous 
pattern. She is so nimble with her hands she is thinking 
of weaving precepts into all the cloth she fashions. 

Priscilla : The next thing I turn my hand to shall be 
a sampler for your room, and it shall read: Verily a 
fool's tongue is hung in the middle of his head and waggeth 
like a bell gone mad. 

Mary (with a deep curtsey): 1 mind not being called 
both mad and a fool so that I be spoke of as a belle. 
Which reminds me, is my hat on straight, John? [She 
looks at him saucily.] 

John: 'Tis as proper as a posy on its stem. 

Mary: That's the worst of these bonnets — one has 
to wear them straight. What I like is a bonnet that 
must be worn a trifle crooked to be straight. 



THE COURTSHIP 53 

[Enter Squanto. He carries a bunch of green foliage which he tenders 

to Priscilla.] 

Squanto : For White Maiden. Squanto gather 'cause 
White Maiden Hke. 

Priscilla: How kind you are, Squanto! 

Mary: What of me? I brought some nice Holland 
seed cakes with me, and I 'd be glad to trade some for a 
bit of green. 

Squanto : Squanto fetch for nothings. White Maiden 
like green things. Squanto like White Maiden. This 
no trade. Squanto no eat cakes here. [He respectfully 
places his hand on his heart.] 

Mary (laughing): O Squanto! You'll be the end of 
me. 

Priscilla: Any tidings of Captain Standish and his 
men? 

[Squanto shakes his head.] 

John: I feel a great worry that never lifts by day or 
night. Not one word since they marched away the day 
after the attack in the harbor. 

Squanto : Squanto wish go with White Chief. Squanto 
no speak Enghsh so good like Hobomok. White Chief 
tell Squanto stay here, take care of Plantation. 

Priscilla: You are a true friend to the White Man. 
I have been thinking of a way in which you could be 
more of a friend to the Indian, Squanto. 

Squanto : Tell. 

Priscilla : It 's — it 's about their clothes. 

Squanto: Indian no wear close. 

Priscilla : That 's it exactly. Could n't you tell them 
it's — it's warmer to wear them? 

Squanto : Indian no get cold. Indian like cold. 



54 THE COURTSHIP 

Priscilla: Well, then, tell them it's nicer to wear 
them. 

Squanto : Squanto like White Man. Squanto no like 
White Man's close. 

Priscilla: And you are not even willing to try to 
teach your people better ways? 

Squanto: Not better ways. White Man no cover 
face. 

Priscilla: Of course not. 

Squanto: Red Man all face. 

[John and Mary give a laugh, and Priscilla looks discomfited. 

Then she smiles.] 

Priscilla: Well, if you are not willing to do that for 
them, promise to do this for me: the first tidings you 
get of Captain Standish and his men, bring me at once. 
Will you, Squanto? 

Squanto: That good sense. Squanto let White 
Maiden know. 

Priscilla : Thank you. 

Squanto : Good-by. [He goes off.] 

Mary: I must be off, too. I have to take Mistress 
Brewster's butter with me. Perhaps John will help me 
home with my basket. 

John : Why, yes — of course -—.I — 

Mary (dimpling): Never mind. I've just remem- 
bered I have to stop at the Bradfords' for a receipt for 
Constanta Hopkins. You'd better bide and help Pris- 
cilla with her patterns. 

Priscilla: Come again, Mary, and don't forget the 
sampler I am to make you. 

Mary: And don't forget — 



THE COURTSHIP 55 

Priscilla (hurriedly and laughingly): I won't! I 
won't! Fare you well. 

[Mary goes indoors with a wave of the hand. John seats himself 
near Priscilla, who has begun to spin furiously.] 

John: You are in haste. 

Priscilla: I have idled my time and have my stint 
to finish. 

John: What did Mary mean when she spoke of pat- 
terns? What patterns are you to spin? 

Priscilla: She meant little or nothing, John. You 
know Mary's way. It may be she was thinking of what 
I said about colors. I told her I was wearied to death of 
somber hues. And I am. I wish I could spin bright 
colors on my wheel ! 

John: You have spun a gay crimson in your cheeks. 

Priscilla {somewhat nervously) : I do wish my cheeks 
would behave themselves. I would they were white, 
John, nice and white — oh, speaking of white, I hear that 
your bullock is as pure as drifts of snow in January. 

John: Ay, he's a beautiful creature. Raghom he is 
called. I set great store by him. You should see the 
stall I have made him. 

Priscilla: Your house — tell me of that. 

John: My house, Priscilla — 'tis not a house I would 
tell you of, but a home. A house a man may build, but 
a home — only a woman can make that. 

[He starts toward her, then recalls himself and falls to pacing hack and 
forth silently. Priscilla steals glances at him. She spins 
faster than ever.\ 

John : When I see you spinning, never idle, and always 
full of thought for others, you are changed in a twinkling : 



56 THE COURTSHIP 

no longer are you Priscilla, but the beautiful Queen of 
Helvetia. I read her story at a bookstall in Southampton. 
Her hands ever were busied. Even when she rode her 
snow-white palfrey over the mountains and down into 
the valleys, always was she spinning thread from a distaff 
fixed to her saddle. She was so thrifty and good that her 
name has passed into a proverb. So shall it be with your 
own when your spinning wheel no longer makes its music. 
Then shall mothers, reproving their slack daughters, 
relate how it was in their childhood, praising the good old 
da^^s of Priscilla, the spinner. 

[Priscilla, embarrassed but pleased, rises and draws a 
white skein from the reel on the bench.] 

Priscilla : Come, you must not be idle ! If I am the 
pattern for housewives, show yourself equally worthy 
of being the m^odel for husbands. Hold this skein while 
I wind it for knitting. Who knows but hereafter, when 
fashions and manners are changed, fathers may tell their 
sons of the good old days of John Alden. 

[John, with his hands somewhat awkwardly extended, holds the skein 
Priscilla has slipped upon them. She starts to wind the thread] 

Priscilla: Nay, John, do not make your arms so 

stiff. And do not transform your fingers into as many 

spokes of a cart wheel. Oh, here's a knot! [She stoops 

to disentangle it.] It takes too much patience. I '11 undo 

it later. 

{She slips skein off John's hands and lays it on the bench. Enter 
Squanto. He stands in silence, his_ head bowed.] 

Priscilla: What is it, Squanto? 
Squanto {as he lifts his eyes and solemnly raises his 
arms) : Great White Chief gone on last trail. 
John: Say that again. 



THE COURTSHIP 57 

Squanto: Word come now — scout bring word — 
Great White Chief gone on last trail. 
John: Dead! Captain Standish dead — my friend! 

[Squanto goes off. Priscilla has stood silent and immovable, her 
face lifted in horror. John's face, stricken at first, changes slowly 
to a knowledge of the meaning for himself. As if in a trance he 
turns to Priscilla and clasps her motionless figure to him.] 

John: Whom the Lord hath joined together. 

[Curtain.] 



Scene 2 : The same scene as the previous one, except it is later in the 
fall, the foliage flushed with autumnal coloring. The marriage 
service of John and Priscilla is just concluding, the hands of 
the Elder upraised in blessing over their heads as he finishes 
his prayer. Mistress Brewster, Mary Chilton, Bartle 
Allerton, and other friends are present. 

Elder Brewster: Whom the Lord hath joined to- 
gether let no man put asunder. 

[Priscilla and John turn to each other, Priscilla resting her hands 
with shy intimacy on John's shoulders. Their look is long and 
happy and solemn. Priscilla has in one hand a bright nose- 
gay-] 

Mary (going forward) : John Alden, Priscilla may now 
be wedded to you, but she has been my friend far longer 
than she has been your wife. Stand aside, sir, for one who 
has an older claim. 

[She curtsies, and John smilingly obeys. The girls embrace.] 

Bartle: It is my belief, John, you are a brave bit 
taller since the Mayflower of Plymouth has become your 
own. Flower raising is going to agree with you. 



58 THE COURTSHIP 

John (with a glance at Mary) : It seems to me you are 
uncommonly taller yourself! 

[Mary tosses her head and moves off, Bartle following.] 

Mistress Brewster: I'll not know what to do with 
Priscilla's light footsteps and deft hands gone from the 
place. 'Twill be a lonesome business. [She wipes her 
eyes.] 

Elder Brewster: Ay, she is the kind you can't 
help missing. But she has a good man. 

[The guests chatter and go to Priscilla. There is a sound of distant 
shouting, coming nearer. The hush of surprise grips the bridal 
group, succeeded by a buzzing of curiosity as the noise draws 
closer. Squanto runs on. His racial stolidity has dissolved 
before the news he is bearing.] 

Squanto: Tidings! Squanto bring tidings, big tid- 
ings! Great White Chief not go on last trail. Great 
White Chief live! 

John {joyously) : Alive ! Captain Standish alive ! 

[Loud huzzas sound. Standish backs on left, good-naturedly 
beating back the crowd of followers.] 

Standish: Back, you noisy varlets! Leave me in 
peace! [Shouts.] Let me get a taste of home and a 
Christian bed. 

[The shouting and pushing renew. Standish draws his sword mock- 
valor ously and flourishes it.] 

Standish: I'll run this through you, one by one, if 
you do not leave me alone. 

Man: If we coom back the night, will 'e tell us o* 
thefightin'? 

Standish: Ay. Clear out now and tonight I'll tell 
you all I know, and make up what I can't remember. 






THE COURTSHIP 59 



["Hurrah for the CaptainI" and similar lusty shouts are heard as 
the crowd goes away. Standish, still sword in handy swings 
around with a great laugh and sees the guests assembled in the 
clearing.] 

Standish: Well, well, what is this? By my faith, 
another welcome home! 

John {going to him)'. Captain! [Suddenly he stops 
and covers his face.] God ! God ! what have I done ? 

Standish: Out with it, man! What troubles you? 

John {bitterly): Do you know what you have come 
home to? A wedding party — the wedding of Priscilla 
and John Alden, your friend. They told us you were 
dead. I thank God you live, yet I could curse the day 
I was born. 

Standish: So you have married her. 

John : They told us you were dead. 

Priscilla: Oh, sir — Captain Standish — will you not 
be friends with us? 

[Standish looks long at her and at John. He turns to Prisch^la.] 

Standish: Why, bless you — bless your pretty face — 
[He stops in abysmal embarrassment^ then with an air oj 
satisfaction as he looks at her, plunges sword into its sheath,] 
As for you, John, long marches under tall skies, where a 
man has room for thinking, have taught me your worth. 
She was made for you. [He takes John's hand in his, 
then lays it on Priscilla's. He smiles.] Besides, she 
needs a brave man. 

Priscilla: The courage you lack in speech with 
women. Captain, expresses itself in deeds for them. 

[Standish starts to speak, then overcome with shyness turns to John.] 



6o THE COURTSHIP 

Standish : Tell her that he who would be well served 
must serve himself — and that there is an even better 
adage : No man can gather cherries in Kent in the season 
of Christmas. 

John {his hand on Standish's shoulder): Now is the 
world right again. 

[Standish is pelted with eager questions. "What happened?" 
**Tell as the story!" "Did you whip the Indians?"] 

Standish (with genial impatience) : I 'd rather break 
into an Indian encampment single-handed than go to 
another wedding to which I've not been bidden! My 
story is soon told. We ran into an ambush. The red 
devils attacked us front and flank and rear; but we 
hacked our way through, put 'em to rout — and here I am. 

John {in joyous exuberance) : Come, friends, come 
home with Mistress Alden and her husband, and cele- 
brate their marriage and the return of the Captain ! You 
shall break bread on linen of Mistress Alden's own 
weaving. 

Priscilla: And a right bonny pattern I wove into it, 
too. 

John : My wife shall not walk in the dust and the heat 
of the day. I shall place her upon the back of my white 
bullock, and like the beautiful Queen of Helvetia on her 
palfrey shall she ride forth, for scepter a distaff in her 
hands, for slave her husband to lead her, and for court 
her train of faithful friends. 

Standish: A royal procession, John, and a royal 
summons. I shall join you within the hour. 

Priscilla: Yea, be you speedy. Captain, for no king- 
dom is secure without the Keeper of its Safety. Look 



THE COURTSHIP 6i 

you! Here is my nosegay from the seeds of Mary 
Chilton's planting. He who catches it shall be the next 
to marry. 

[She touches the flowers to her lips before she tosses them from her. 
They are caught hy both Mary and Bartle. A laugh goes up 
as Mary tucks them in her bodice. 

In merry mood, all, except the Captain, follow John and Priscilla 
as they leave at the right. Standish, helmet in hand, gazes 
after John and Priscilla. Then he tosses his helmet aside 
and, dropping upon the stump, falls to polishing his sword 
lustily.] 

[Curtain.] 



ORIGINAL CAST OF THE PLAY 



Presented by the 

Drama Club of Evanston in Commemoration of the 

Pilgrim Tercentenary 



November, 24, 1920 
Captain Miles Standish 

John Alden 



Priscilla Mullens 



Mary Chilton 



Bartle Allerton 



William Brewster , the Elder oj 
Plymouth 

Mistress Brewster 

Wattawamat, of the Narra- 
gansetts 

Pecksuot, of the Narragansetts 



S quant 0, Indian friend of the 
settlers 

Hobomok, interpreter 
Master of the Mayflower 
Man 
Sarah 



William Owen 

Of professional Shakespeare repertory 

Oliver E. Hinsdell 

Reader, formerly of the Drama Players 

Mrs. Arthur Whitely 

President of the Drama Club 

Mary Agnes Doyle 

Reader, formerly with the new Theatre 
Company at the Century 

Henry Newell 

Formerly with the 57th Street Players 
Workshop 

Professor James S. Lardner 

Of Northwestern School of Oratory 

Miss Effyan Wambough 

Of the Drama Department, High Schoo 

Felix Wangemann 

Of the Pilgrim Players of the First 
Congregational Church 

French Waterman 

Of the Pilgrim Players of the First 
Congregational Church 

Winfield Carnegie 

Of the Players Workshop and Over Seas 
Theatre League 

Joseph Gibson 

Of the Pilgrim Players 

Edward Laud 

Formerly with Sam Hume 

Professor Oliver Farnsworth 

Of Northwestern University 

Mrs. F. Cleveland 

Of the Riley Circle 



62 



Martha Mrs. Edward Hall 

Of the Riley Circle 
Woman Mrs. F. O. Balch 

Formerly of the B. Iden Payne Reper- 
tory Company 

Danny Wendell Wheeler 

Of the Pilgrim Players 

Child Barbara Best 

Of the Pilgrim Players 

Young Girl Dorothy Ennis 

Of the Pilgrim Players 

Under the direction of Mrs. A. Starr Best of the Drama League 
of America. 
Pictures By Matzene of Chicago. 
Costumes by Minna Schmidt of Chicago. 



